


Where No Dravaran Has Gone Before

by SadakoTetsuwan



Category: Overwatch (Video Game), Star Trek
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Hanzo, Alien Sex, Aliens, Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Captain McCree, Dravaran, Lt. Cmd. Hanzo, M/M, Mentions of Oviposition, Star Trek AU, belly bulge, human mccree, mating calls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 08:40:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16489325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadakoTetsuwan/pseuds/SadakoTetsuwan
Summary: Lieutenant Commander Hanzo Shimada is about to come onboard his new assignment as the lead astrophysicist on the USS Apache, and quickly settles into more than one position in the crew.





	1. Chapter 1

_Captain’s Log, Stardate 48297.2 – I have arrived at Starbase 293 and met with Admiral Amari, an old friend from my days in the Academy. We took a walking tour of my new command, the USS Apache. I didn’t get the opportunity to see much of her during the naming ceremony, but perhaps it’s for the best; in her completed state, she is a sight to behold._

_A quick review of my crew manifest shows there are still some holes in the duty roster, but the Admiral has assured me that we are merely waiting for the transfer requests to be processed before my new crew members appear on the manifest._

_Captain’s Personal Log – I’ve finally got all settled in on my new command—she’s smaller than the_ Titania _, but these_ Nova _-class ships are a step up in luxury, that’s for sure. And more to the point, she’s_ mine _! I reckon we’ll be able to do just as much work with less than a third of the crew complement of a_ Freedom _-class, with how much new tech they’ve loaded into this baby._

_I’ve managed to wrangle some old friends from the Academy on board—Fareeha is going to be my XO and I couldn’t be happier. (Angela’s going to be serving on board, too; but I think it’s mostly to keep an eye on me, haha.)_

_We launch in 72 hours, so until then I’m going to be overseeing the loading of cargo, meeting my crew, and most importantly, relaxing on Starbase._

* * *

Jesse McCree sauntered into the Starbase bar, the scent of pub grub and the sound of casual merriment bringing a relaxed smile to his lips. It was his last day in dock, his last evening to enjoy himself before he had to be Captain all day every day. Not that he didn’t still get ‘Sir’ed and ‘Captain’ed everywhere he went on base, of course. But in the moody yellow-tinged light and communal atmosphere of the pub, rank was recognized in only the most jocular way.

McCree dropped onto a tall, cushioned barstool and shot a winning smile at the bartender; a comely young civilian. “You got any _real_ bourbon around here?”

“Same as yesterday, _Captain_ ,” she chuckled.

“Alright, get me two fingers of your finest fake,” he smiled, leaning against the bar.

“It’s a good thing there’s no alcohol in this stuff, you’d drink yourself into the grave,” she said, pouring a glass of synthehol, neat.

“Yeah, suppose I have to wait ‘til my next time back on Earth to indulge my favorite guilty pleasure,” McCree said, accepting his glass and sipping. It _definitely_ tasted artificial, no matter what everyone else said; like sub-par fruit-flavored candy, it paled in comparison to the real thing. He planned on having a glass of the real deal tomorrow evening when they were finally underway, but he had to ration his liquor carefully. There was only so much storage space on his ship reserved for ‘Captain’s vices’, and his humidor had to fit somewhere as well.

His gaze drifted across the patrons of the pub, Starfleet and civilians and non-Federation citizens mingling with only the occasional interference from security. Three Klingons cackled as they watched a young Ensign try to eat a whole bowl of Racht, with slips of Latinum piling in the center of the table as he powered through. A Bolian waiter was gabbing joyfully in the close vicinity of two very put-upon Ferengi who were trying to complete _some_ sort of business deal, if their furtive glances and Nausicaan bodyguard were anything to go by. And at the other end of the bar…

McCree’s eyes widened slightly at the sight. He’d never seen a Dravaran in person before, let alone in Science Blue. He was a _very_ tall drink of water, easily over two meters with a long, elegant face. What looked at first like Trill spots were in fact iridescent blue scales, dividing the cool toned skin of his forehead from the sleek black hair falling halfway down his long neck, and presumably continuing all the way down his back to the long, whip-like tail he kept tucked around his leg to avoid any stray footfall. He had a well-groomed goatee with a few longer whiskers hanging down from his mustache and a neatly trimmed pencil beard which sharply defined the line of his jaw and rose into feathery tufts of silver, hiding his elongated ears. Following the line it suggested up into his hair were two _antlers_ , sweeping back along his head and wrapped tip to base in what looked to be simple undyed wool yarn. His fingers ended in short claws, but he seemed to have no difficulty handling the glass he was sipping from.

He was absolutely _stunning_.

“Hey barkeep,” Jesse called softly, “Send another drink to that Dravaran gentleman at the end of the bar for me, will ya?” he asked, shooting her a wink for good measure.

“What are you winking at _me_ for, cowboy?” she asked, chuckling as she prepared another drink at his request.

McCree watched with casual interest as she headed down the bar and placed the glass of something green and opaque in front of the Dravaran.

"Courtesy of the gentleman at the end of the bar,” she smiled, gesturing in his direction. The Dravaran turned to regard him from a safe distance, his onyx black eyes slowly traveling down McCree’s body—he could _feel_ the coolness, pleasant and smooth. McCree smiled and gave a casual little wave, enjoying the other’s momentary attention. The Dravaran lifted the glass in a toast before raising it to his pleasantly bowed lips.

McCree waited for a few moments to pass, for him to enjoy the gesture before moving closer.

“Howdy,” McCree smiled, sliding onto the stool next to him, “Name’s Jesse.”

“Hanzo,” the Dravaran replied, his voice a low, pleasant rumble.

“Forgive my attention, but I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a Dravaran in a Starfleet uniform before,” McCree remarked. “Reckon you must be the first.”

“Indeed,” Hanzo replied. “Although we joined the Federation, My people have preferred to continue to develop their own space program. I follow my own path,” he added with a smile.

“Lucky me, our paths have crossed out here on the frontier,” McCree smiled, leaning against the bar.

“Mmm, perhaps it _is_ your luck,” Hanzo smirked. “Although I fear I will not be here for long.”

“Me neither,” McCree smiled. “Why not make the most of what time we have?”

“Hm, so like a human,” Hanzo mused, “Always in a rush.”

“We can take a little bit of time,” McCree replied, reaching out and stroking the back of Hanzo’s knuckles with his own. Hanzo drew a quick breath, his eyes shooting to McCree’s hand. McCree quickly withdrew, an embarrassed smile on his lips. “Ah, my apologies, I’m detecting some sort of taboo.”

“N-no, no,” Hanzo replied, carefully pulling his drink closer for a moment before composing himself again. “It…was an intimate touch. No offense is taken, I assure you.”

“My apologies anyway,” McCree smiled, looking up at the Dravaran sheepishly, “It _was_ my intention to take things a bit slower, after all.”

“It…would not be fair for me to expect you to know private Dravaran customs,” Hanzo smiled. “It was an accidental overstep. Your apology is accepted.”

“Was it the hand?” McCree asked, the flirtatious tone dropping away; this close to the Dravar system, he was sure to run into other Dravarans—knowing whether he was allowed to shake hands was a rather important detail.

“Ah, no, it was the…knuckles,” Hanzo replied, running a clawed finger over the joints of his right hand. “It is…an affectionate gesture. For lovers,” he added somewhat unnecessarily. McCree couldn’t help but notice how Hanzo’s gaze lingered on his hand, even after McCree had withdrawn it.

“Gotcha. I’ll try to keep my flirting more appropriate for the rest of the evening,” McCree laughed, keeping his hand in his own space.

* * *

 

Hanzo awoke two minutes before his alarm was set to go off, stretching every bit of his body languidly. He rolled his shoulders, arched his back and tail, stretched his legs to their full length and splayed his toes,his claws flexing in his full-body yawn.

“Jesse?” he called softly, reaching to the place his ‘acquaintance’ had occupied when they had finally tired the night before. The sheets were cold. Pity. He probably wouldn’t get the opportunity to see him again before he was officially transferred to his new ship…and he’d been enjoying their little ‘cultural exchange’ so much.

Oh well…perhaps on his new ship, he would find an equally curious partner for ‘exobiology’. The thought brought a grin to his lips. They hadn’t even gotten to the _really_ interesting portions of their respective anatomy.

He took a quick run through the sanitizer and carefully donned his uniform before re-wrapping his antlers, taking his daily hypospray to neutralize his venom, and capping his claws. First impressions were very important, and doubly so when you were the only one of your species on a starship. Even though he wore Science Blue, he was the de facto ambassador for his people when it came to the crew of the USS _Apache_.

“Personal log, Stardate 48300.1,” he began, not even sitting at the console in his quarters, “I have finished packing everything in my temporary quarters, and I am preparing to give my transfer orders to my new captain. I am eager to work on a starship again, after spending so long in the astrophysics labs on starbases and at home on Kenkon. With this, I say goodbye to Starbase 293 and hello to the USS _Apache_. End personal log.”

He saved putting on his shoes for last. It was the one part of the uniform code that he couldn’t stand. Starfleet had been willing to come far enough to allow shoes that were specially designed with his anatomy in mind—but no shoes altogether was a step too far. He may have disliked being cooped up in labs back home, but at least he could relax his feet there…

He bade each curved corridor and common area an internal goodbye as he headed for the docking ring, catching sight of the _Apache_ from one of the station windows—she looked like a fine ship indeed, if a little small. No, best not to call her small. Perhaps ‘cozy’ instead. Yes, hopefully more like a family. The doors to the station airlock slid open and shut smoothly, and Hanzo took a moment to fish his transfer orders out of his suitcase before finally ducking through the airlock door to his new ship.

A human woman with chin-length hair and a crisp gold commander’s uniform stood at rapt attention just inside.

“Lieutenant Commander Shimada Hanzo, reporting for duty,” he said, presenting an isolinear chip to the woman.

“Welcome to the _Apache._ I am Commander Fareeha Amari,” she said, taking the chip with a very serious expression, though her tone was neutral. “You are our last crew member to arrive. The captain is ready to receive you in his ready room, or I can show you to your quarters, if you like.”

“No need, Commander,” Hanzo said, “I would prefer to meet with the captain as soon as possible, to discuss my needs on board.”

“Yes, you’re the first Dravaran I’ve ever met, Commander Hanzo,” Commander Amari said, leading him toward the main turbolift.

“Ah, it is Commander Shimada, actually,” he corrected, “The Dravaran practice is to place the family name first.”

“Oh! My apologies, Commander Shimada.”

“No offense was taken—many things are different between Federation and Dravaran ways,” Hanzo smiled. “I have grown used to explaining the differences since my first days at the Academy.”

“Well, the _Apache_ is a research vessel,” Amari said, “I am sure you will find many eager students here. Bridge,” she ordered, and the lift began its smooth ascent. “Have you met Captain McCree yet?”

“No, ma’am,” Hanzo replied, glad for the height of the turbolift ceiling.

“He’s quite a character, but don’t let it fool you. He is very capable,” she explained.

“I have no doubt, if he has been given command of a brand new research vessel.”

“Indeed. Just…please, don’t be put off by his questionable aesthetic choices,” Amari said, wincing slightly at the thought. Hanzo raised a brow, but did not question further as the lift doors opened onto the bridge.

“Our crew is small, so all members of various departments will be on bridge rotation at various times, regardless of rank. One of our engineers, Ensign Winston, has designed an AI who helps keep the bridge stations connected to each officer’s individual work on board and manages data collaterally with the ship’s computer in a RAID configuration to keep information safe and increase resource allocation efficiency. Or so he claims,” Amari smirked, “Either way, your bridge duty shouldn’t interfere with your work in the Stellar Cartography lab.”

“That is a relief. The crew is less than 100, is it not?”

“Correct. ATHENA will be assisting all of us in our work in lieu of taking on more crew or sending a larger ship—if this AI is successful, it will have wide-ranging implications for the number of ships Starfleet can field. It’s quite exciting, you should hear Winston talk about it,” she smiled. “Here’s the science station,” Amari continued, gesturing to a very well-equipped station currently manned by a tall woman with vivid red hair. “Doctor O’Deorain, this is Lieutenant Commander Shimada, he will be your Astrophysicist.”

“Charmed,” the doctor replied, her voice low and smooth. She took a moment to complete her task before she turned away from the screens in front of her and held out a bony hand to shake. “I understand your people are governed by a technocracy—your expertise in your field must be impressive, if they were willing to allow you to leave the planet and represent your people.”

“I hope I can demonstrate my skill. I look forward to working with you, Doctor,” Hanzo said, shaking her hand and bending his waist in a bow.

“The captain’s ready room is this way,” Amari said, gesturing to a set of doors off the main bridge before tapping at the panel next to the door.

“Come in,” a familiar voice called.

The room was, indeed, decorated with a certain aesthetic in mind. The walls were a pleasant warm yellow ochre, with a geometric woven fabric draped over the back of the captain’s chair. A wide array of knick-knacks, jewel-toned objets d’art, and what looked to be the skull of an animal had already found their places inside the room—clearly, the captain had wasted no time in decorating his ready room to his liking.

“Captain,” she said, her tone just as formal as when she had initially greeted Hanzo, “Lieutenant Commander Shimada Hanzo.”

His eyes widened as his gaze finally met the captain’s; a familiar set of brown eyes, of slightly messy brown hair, of warm lips—

“Welcome aboard, Lieutenant Commander,” Jesse smiled sheepishly.

“Ah, Shimada Hanzo, reporting as ordered sir,” Hanzo said, his own embarrassed gaze dropping away.


	2. Chapter 2

"Commander Shimada said the two of you hadn't met before," Commander Amari smirked, leaning against the captain's desk and crossing her arms. McCree, who was adjusting the positioning of a painted piece of ancient Western ceramic, pointedly ignored her. "So...did you meet him at the Academy?"

"No," McCree huffed, looking over his shoulder, "No, he was after our time."

"Well, then how do you two know each other? Because I know you, Jesse, and that is not how you, nor anyone, reacts to strangers."

"Look, we—" McCree sighed, leaning against the wall and rubbing the back of his neck, "...We met on Starbase, alright? Might've...had us a bit of a fling."

"Did you know he was on the crew?"

"Lord, no!" McCree cried, jostling the shelf his pottery was resting on and quickly turning to catch it. "No, I would never have bought him a drink if I'd know he was gonna be on the crew."

Amari shrugged. "Why not? You enjoyed yourselves, didn't you?"

"'Course," McCree said, going back to positioning the pottery.

"Well, then as long as it doesn't interfere with your duties and force me to enact Order 104 Section A, then I don't see any reason why you shouldn't continue enjoying yourselves," Amari smiled, her expression more genuine. "Captains are lonely—believe me, I remember," she said, her tone only the slightest bit wistful.

"Well, if I have  _your_ permission," McCree chuckled.

* * *

_Personal Log, Lieutenant Commander Shimada, Stardate 48300.4 – I cannot believe this. Jesse—Captain McCree did not see fit to tell me that he was—I was to be under his command…! I-I have seen my captain nearly nude and it is only my first day on the ship! And…computer, pause recording—_

Hanzo sighed in frustration, rubbing his temples. He’d seen his new captain nearly nude, and he was _astounding_. He was warm and soft, with clever fingers and a broad, wet tongue—

‘Good gracious, keep yourself under control, Hanzo!’

“McCree to Shimada.” a warm voice called over the comm.

“Shimada here,” he replied automatically, his brows rising as his mind caught up to his ears.

“At your convenience, I’d like to speak to you in my ready room—we didn’t get a chance to go over any special needs you might have as a Dravaran on the crew.”

“Ah…yes, that is fine, shall we meet within the hour?”

“Sounds good to me. McCree out.”

Hanzo took a moment to breathe, to center himself, to try not to think about his commanding officer in the nude—damnit. He couldn’t let this interfere with his work on the ship. Perhaps he could simply address it with Captain McCree when he went to speak to him…yes. It would be awkward, but it couldn’t be avoided. Perhaps that is why he didn’t say anything when they first met—to avoid the awkward interaction? Ah, but it was only delayed…

Hanzo shook his head and rose from his seat at the computer, pulling his shoes back on before leaving his quarters. Perhaps he would discuss his _shoes_ with Captain McCree as well. He ducked his head to leave his quarters and almost immediately crashed into another officer in the hallway.

“Pardon me,” Hanzo said quickly, “I was not paying attention.”

“Mindfulness is important on a starship—but sometimes, it is an ideal difficult to reach,” a tinny voice replied. Hanzo blinked and looked down, his eyes widening slightly. An Omnic?

“You must be Lieutenant Commander Shimada. I am Zenyatta, the ship’s counselor.”

“Ah, a pleasure to meet you…Commander,” Hanzo said, his gaze flicking to the rank pips on the Omnic’s collar for a moment.

“Please, do not concern yourself with rank with me,” he said, raising a hand in a gentle motion, “I did not attend Starfleet Academy for the accolades. I am here to be a counselor, nothing more. In fact,” he added, his synthesized voice dropping to something like a whisper, “I just received permission from the captain to do away with my uniform entirely. Captain McCree is a very open-minded man,” he observed.

“Is that so?” Hanzo asked. It certainly seemed that way, if he welcomed Omnics on board. Although perhaps Captain McCree was from Earth—it only seemed to be humans from this sector who detested Omnics.

“If there is anything you need, please, do not hesitate to ask,” Zenyatta said; though his faceplate was static, there was a clear smile in his tone. “I am here to help.”

“Thank you for the tiring work you do,” Hanzo said, frowning a bit at how cumbersome it was to translate such a common Dravaran expression. He didn’t trust the Universal Translator to get it right, either, though. Zenyatta had begun to hover down the hallway when a thought struck Hanzo. “Ah, Counselor!” he called, “One more moment, please.”

“Yes?”

“What is…ah, what I mean to ask is—”

“Take time to form your question, I am not in danger of leaving you.”

“Thank you,” Hanzo sighed, “…It is permitted for a superior officer to have a relationship with a subordinate officer, correct?”

“That’s correct.”

“Is it…truly permitted? Or would there be consequences for the officers in question?”

“Starfleet’s code of conduct says that as long as a relationship between officers does not interfere in the operation of the ship, it is allowed. There is some discretion left to the captain regarding relationships in the same department, of course, but the standard is only that officers act with decorum while on duty. Many larger ships have married officers serving together, with their families on board as well.”

“I see. Thank you for your input.”

“Not to worry—it is a very popular question in Starfleet,” Zenyatta replied. “I have answered it twice already today. Good day, Commander Shimada,” he said, hovering down the hallway in almost total silence.

Well… that did answer at least _one_ of his questions.

* * *

McCree frowned as he rearranged the little potted succulents on his desk for the umpteenth time. No order really _felt_ right, not from both sides of the desk. The chime at the door was a welcome distraction.

“Come in,” he called, pulling his hands away from the little pots. His expression brightened as the door opened to reveal the tall form of Lt. Commander Shimada— _Hanzo_ …

“You wanted to see me, Captain?”

“Yeah, come in Commander, come in,” McCree smiled, gesturing to the seat in front of his desk. “Have a seat. Can I get you anything?” he asked, trying to stay casual as he headed to the replicator.

“I do not know how many Dravaran recipes are programmed into the replicator,” Hanzo said, sitting somewhat awkwardly in the chair; it clearly was not made for Dravaran anatomy.

“We can see to it that some of your favorites make it into the ship’s computer,” McCree said.

“I shall request a list of recipes from home,” Hanzo replied, rubbing his knuckles and casting his gaze around the room. He didn’t want to be caught staring—or remembering.

McCree turned back to the replicator with a smile. “Two glasses of sweet tea—make it cold and make it extra sweet,” he added, patting the lip of the replicator’s tray affectionately. “Haven’t had time to see if these replicators know what they’re doing when it comes to sweet tea, so it’s best to be specific,” he explained, merely wanting to fill the air.

“I reckon we oughta clear the air before we get too far from Starbase,” McCree said, setting one tall glass of tea with a lemon wedge in front of Hanzo before taking his seat behind the desk.

“Ah, yes. That would be best, I think,” Hanzo agreed, glad for the distraction of the drink. “Sir, did you know I was to serve on your ship?”

“No—your transfer didn’t appear on the manifest until this morning. I promise, I don’t make a habit of getting so friendly with new officers under my command,” he laughed nervously, sipping at his tea. “And…I’d understand if you wanted to just put that whole business in the past and just pretend we, uh, never did none of that,” McCree trailed off, looking down into his glass. Damnit, this had gone much better in his head.

“I see…” Hanzo murmured, curiously sipping at his tea as well. It was overpoweringly sweet, like liquid candy, but the hint of bitterness beneath from what tea was actually in the glass was still intriguing.

A moment of silence hung in the room as both Hanzo and McCree tried to choose their next words.

“…I spoke with Counselor Tekhartha on my way here,” Hanzo began taking a minute sip of his tea. “He confirmed that there is…no regulation preventing the…continuation of such a relationship,” he continued, choosing his words carefully.

“He told me the same,” McCree chuckled, taking much more natural sips of his tea. “Of course, it’s all up to you if you want to, uh, keep seeing me,” he added. Hanzo could hear McCree’s heartbeat speeding up, and he could smell a touch of nervous perspiration. Or…perhaps it wasn’t nervousness…Hanzo stroked his beard thoughtfully, his gaze running along the gentle curve of the desk.

“…To be frank,” he began, feeling the warm rumble in his throat, “I _did_ enjoy our encounter.”

“Me, too,” McCree smiled. “So…would I be able to interest you in another drink sometime? There’s a bar in the ship’s lounge. Or we could have real alcohol in my cabin,” he added with a wink.

“Alcohol on a Starfleet vessel? Is that allowed?” Hanzo asked, smirking.

“Only on special occasions,” McCree grinned, relaxing as the atmosphere in the room began to lighten.

“I am honored that you would think of meeting with me as worthy of a real alcoholic beverage,” Hanzo purred.

“Oh honey, we’d better change the subject while we’re still on duty,” McCree grinned in reply, leaning on his desk in much the same way he did at the bar on Starbase 293.

“Very well,” Hanzo replied, setting down his glass, “Then I have another urgent matter to discuss with you.”

“Oh?”

“I very much need to discuss with you, my shoes.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Well, here we are again,” McCree laughed softly, gesturing for Hanzo to lead the way into the lounge. He couldn’t help but notice how much more natural Hanzo’s gait seemed without his…frankly odd sandals on. Not to mention how gorgeous he was in Dravaran clothes. The airy silks and the heavy brocades reminded McCree of both the soft skin of his underbelly and the dark, glittering scales running down his neck and arms…absolute perfection.

“Overall, I think our first three days away from dock have been successful,” Hanzo began, settling easily onto one of the barstools. He seemed much more comfortable that way, too—damn, every time McCree invited Hanzo to discuss any accommodations he’d need, they’d found themselves distracted. Maybe this would be a better way of figuring out what he needed anyway…McCree made a mental note to look into more barstool-like seating around the ship as he slid onto his own stool.

“Yeah, we haven’t crashed or been boarded or violated the Prime Directive, anyway,” McCree chuckled.

“What can I get for you, Captain?” the ensign bartender asked, leaning against the bar casually.

“How about a Vulcan brandy?” McCree smiled.

“And I will have a Samarian Sunset,” Hanzo added.

“Yessirs,” the bartender smiled, turning back to the replicator.

“Samarian Sunset? It’s synthehol, you don’t have to go easy,” McCree grinned.

“Even synthehol has a fairly strong effect on Dravarans—though shortlived,” he added. “Besides, I like the taste. Sour and bitter foods appeal to me.”

“Noted—I take it you drink a lot of coffee, then,” McCree ventured.

“Absolutely—straight black,” Hanzo smiled.

“Aah, a man after my own heart,” McCree purred, gazing adoringly at Hanzo. Hanzo chuckled and glanced away before letting out a quiet chuff, smiling as the drinks were delivered. His Samarian Sunset had come out already activated, sadly—one had to mix it by hand to get the full experience.

“Shall we say a toast?” Hanzo asked, delicately lifting the glass by the stem.

“Sure thing, sweetheart. To the _Apache_ ,” he smiled, clinking his glass against Hanzo’s.

“Kampai,” Hanzo purred, sipping at his glass. The drink was delightfully sour and warmed his throat. Almost immediately, the tips of his tongue began to feel like they were covered in antler velvet, and his tongue darted out to moisten his lips.

“Forked tongue?” McCree asked, leaning closer.

"Ah, yes,” Hanzo smiled, sticking out what at first looked like a long, very narrow purple tongue, but a quick flex caused the tips to split for a length at the end. He quickly pulled it back in his mouth with a chuckle. “Some Dravarans can cross their tongue tips, but I cannot.”

“Some humans can contract their tongue so it looks like a clam shell,” McCree laughed, “I don’t even know how you figure out you can do that.”

“My sibling can do it—Genji,” Hanzo explained.

“Are they planning on joining Starfleet, too?”

“I doubt it,” Hanzo smiled, “Genji is very independent and free. Genji would not fare well in the ordered life of Starfleet.” He pondered, for a moment, what Genji might ultimately choose to do—perhaps journalism, or matchmaking? Genji had always been inordinately interested in the goings-on of others… “But enough about that,” Hanzo continued, reaching out and shyly bumping his knuckle against McCree’s wrist. McCree quirked a brow, grinning.

“I hear that’s an _intimate touch_ , for a Dravaran,” he murmured, leaning close.

“You have heard correctly,” Hanzo purred in reply, leaning in as well. “And as I said, I very much enjoyed our evening on Starbase.”

“Me, too,” McCree whispered, reaching up and stroking Hanzo’s cheek. A moment later, he changed the position of his hand, stroking the Dravaran’s cheek with his knuckles. It felt daring, but if Hanzo’s reaction was anything to go by, it was welcome. “You wanna have another drink, or should we get outta here? …Pick up where we left off?”

“I was thinking about a shot of Saurian brandy,” Hanzo murmured, allowing his fingers to trail down McCree’s forearm in return, “…but perhaps we could drink it afterwards,” he whispered, a low tone rumbling beneath his words as he leaned down into McCree’s ear.

* * *

The lighting in the Captain’s quarters was warm and low, a contrast to the velvety blackness beyond the windows. Neither Hanzo nor McCree wanted to appear too eager to undress, shooting furtive glances at one another as they attempted to gauge the speed at which to shed their clothes—and, of course, to catch another glimpse of the other.

McCree couldn’t help how his gaze lingered on the long plated ridge down Hanzo’s back leading to his narrow whiplike tail, clearly segmented for flexibility, and just as rich and cool blue as the smaller scales along his hairline, running down his shoulders…gorgeous.

Hanzo shifted his bulk and loosened his wrap pants, glancing back at McCree and trying not to stare at the hair on his chest. He didn’t want to admit how much he’d been thinking about that hair, wanting to bury his nose in it, pet every inch of the captain’s furry little human body—

Hanzo let out a little chirp and quickly turned away, his hands flying to his throat.

“What was that?” McCree asked, delight in his voice.

“N-nothing, it was nothing,” Hanzo replied, “Just…I suppose I am a little nervous.” It wasn’t a total lie, but he certainly couldn’t say it and look in the captain’s face.

“You weren’t nervous last time, you alright?” McCree asked, stepping out of his pants and cautiously approaching Hanzo in nothing but his boxers.

“Yes…but if I may be frank, I did not expect to see you again last time,” Hanzo said, glancing over his shoulder with a sheepish smile. “I was not so concerned with impressing you.”

“Ohh, you impressed me plenty, honey,” McCree replied, sitting on the edge of his bed—rather larger than the regular officers received. “C’mere, let’s get comfy again. Get…reacquainted with each other,” he winked.

Hanzo smiled and slid onto the bed in his underwear, his form curling gracefully along the length of McCree’s bed, his long legs stretching and hanging off the edge. “I would very much like that,” Hanzo purred, coyly trailing a clawed finger down McCree’s arm and flicking his tail.

McCree smiled and twisted around, nestling against Hanzo. His scales didn’t extend very far onto his belly or the inside of his arms, but where they were, they were pleasantly smooth and cool beneath his fingers. “Is there anything I should know before we go forward?” McCree asked.

“Nothing comes to mind,” Hanzo replied, smiling as he stroked McCree’s beard with his knuckles.

“No toxic goo anywhere? No…teeth in surprising places or anything?” McCree continued, letting out a nervous chuckle.

“I do not believe so…” Hanzo laughed, “I use a daily hypospray to neutralize my venom. If necessary, we can call sick bay, of course.”

“Let’s try to stay outta sick bay, I don’t want to get that lecture,” McCree winked.

“Indeed,” Hanzo smiled, nuzzling McCree’s cheek before pressing a little closer, subtly scenting him. The light scratch of McCree’s beard against his scales was incredibly soothing. Hands gently began exploring, McCree’s dull nails searching out the edges of Hanzo’s scales, Hanzo’s claws carefully running down McCree’s back, catching lightly at the border between his left arm and his synthetic skin-covered prosthesis, a warm, rough palm sliding up to catch a cheek and help guide lips together for a soft, moist kiss. They fell into rhythm easily—cautious at first, but quickly gaining confidence.

McCree’s lips ran down the border between Hanzo’s cool blue scales and his soft, smooth skin, his wet tongue darting out to trace the edge along his neck. Hanzo shuddered and let out a pleased moan, followed by another high-pitched little chirp.

“What?” McCree said, pulling back, “Is that a good or a bad sound?”

“I-it is…a good sound,” Hanzo admitted softly, his cheeks an odd shade of cornflower. “Please, do not tell anyone about my mating calls—they are embarrassing,” he murmured, chuckling to cover his sudden self-consciousness.

“Aww, I think it’s cute,” McCree smiled, continuing his licks and venturing to nibble. “I like knowing you like what I’m doing.”

“Ah—! Jesse…” Hanzo moaned, his grip on the human tightening. McCree gasped and jerked back slightly.

“Watch the nails, darlin’, they’re a might sharp,” he murmured.

“I-I am sorry,” Hanzo whispered in reply, quickly checking McCree’s skin. “I do not see any blood, are you alright?”

“Yeah—now I know why you wear those ‘fake nails’ on duty,” McCree laughed, settling back into place.

“I think you would lose patience with me, if you had to replace every scratched console over and over,” Hanzo chuckled. “Now…kiss me again.”

McCree was happy to oblige, looping a leg around Hanzo’s waist and running his fingers through Hanzo’s hair. It was surprisingly soft, and had an almost downy texture—it was fascinating. He leaned close once again and pressed his lips against Hanzo’s. Considering his somewhat reptilian nature, Hanzo’s lips were pleasantly soft and pliant, if a little dry. Gently, still wary of teeth or venom or whatever a Dravaran might have tucked away in their mouth, he slipped his tongue past Hanzo’s lips. He could taste the lingering sour bite of the cocktail he’d had to drink and felt the sharp, serrated edge of his teeth, the hint of danger sending a shiver down his spine.

Hanzo’s arms slid around McCree’s waist and he rolled onto his back, his feet digging into the pillows as he relaxed beneath McCree’s warm weight. He let his thighs fall open and purred at the pressure of the man atop him, at the heat of the human’s loins.

“Let me see,” Hanzo purred, his claws tracing along the waistband of McCree’s boxers. “I want to see you.”

“You ever, uh…seen a human’s parts?”

“I have watched human pornography, yes,” Hanzo replied, chuffing softly. “But I have not seen one in person.”

McCree let out a breathy chuckle and shimmied out of his boxers, settling with his thighs on either side of Hanzo’s waist and putting his hard cock on display, the slit already moist with pre. Hanzo chuckled and rolled his hips, dislodging McCree from his place and sending him sliding forward on Hanzo’s chest.

“Closer,” he teased, smirking.

“Alright, alright, I’m closer,” McCree laughed, reaching down and stroking Hanzo’s cheek.

“May I?” Hanzo asked, reaching halfway toward McCree’s member.

“Sure,” McCree smiled, watching with his nerves slightly on edge as Hanzo’s claws neared his cock.

Hanzo was very careful, stroking his fingers along McCree’s cock with a curious smile. It was smooth, unlike the rest of his hairy body; the flesh was growing hot and firm, and the hairless skin had a soft texture that reminded Hanzo of his own belly. McCree sighed as Hanzo’s fingers ran along the shaft, feeling him out, pausing at moments to feel his pulse in the hot flesh.

“Try like this,” McCree instructed, placing a rough hand around Hanzo’s scaly fingers and wrapping them around his dick. “Feels good like this,” he continued, gently urging him to stroke.

“Does it?” he purred in reply, his dark gaze flicking up to McCree’s face. “…I must admit, I am impressed,” Hanzo began, his free hand stroking McCree’s thigh appreciatively. “I cannot imagine what this will feel like,” he added, his thighs twitching at the thought.

“Why don’t we find out?” McCree asked, smirking and tugging lightly at Hanzo’s tightly wound loincloth. “You, uh, take care of this, I’ve gotta grab something,” he said, giving Hanzo a little peck on the cheek before nudging the other’s hand away from his dick and hurrying over to the replicator for some lube.

Hanzo quickly untied his fundoshi and rearranged himself on the bed, taking a quick moment to make sure he hadn’t damaged McCree’s pillows with his claws before lying back against them, shyly massaging the almost translucent scales around his cloaca. It had certainly been a while since Hanzo had mated with anyone—not so long since he’d pleasured himself, of course… He let his eyes slide closed as he continued to massage himself, inhaling the scent of McCree from his pillows and letting out a pleased trill as he worked, carefully running a knuckle down his opening and letting it dip inside himself.

“Gorgeous,” McCree purred, sinking onto the bed next to Hanzo and running a hand over Hanzo’s muscular chest. The rough texture of McCree’s hand was an absolute delight to Hanzo's senses. The hand retreated, and Hanzo’s eyelids fluttered open. McCree was carefully spreading a clear, neutral-smelling fluid across his fingers. “Forgive me if I’m not very…adept at this—I, ah, normally only sleep with other human men,” McCree admitted, “Not sure how Dravaran sexes figure into the paradigm but…well, I know what this looks like, anyway, and I haven’t handled one in a long time.”

Hanzo chuckled and pressed lightly on his belly, smirking as a glistening pale indigo shaft peeked out from his cloaca, narrow and shy.

“And what does _this_ look like, Jesse?” he asked, smirking.

“Lookin’ like a snack,” McCree replied, matching his smirk as he leaned down closer to get a better look. It was perhaps only two fingers wide, but McCree assumed it would plump up when it was erect. The tip was angled and oddly flared, the opening of his shaft seemed to gape and pulse with Hanzo’s pounding heartbeat. He could fit a finger down there easily…or a tongue.

“That,” Hanzo laughed, removing his hands from his belly; the shaft snapped back inside his cloaca immediately, away from McCree’s hungry gaze. “…is obscene, _Captain_ ,” he purred.

McCree chuckled and kissed at Hanzo’s jaw as he settled on the bed, gently taking over the motions Hanzo had been making. His slick fingers ran along Hanzo’s slit before one slipped inside the folds, earning another chirp from Hanzo.

“You’ve gotta promise me you’ll let me know if something hurts, darlin’,” McCree murmured, “I don’t know if our…anatomy is gonna be compatible once we get goin’…”

“I assure you that so far,” Hanzo whispered, trailing his knuckles down McCree’s forearm, “We are compatible.” He sighed and allowed his thighs to fall open, the stretch helping to open himself farther. The gentle motions of McCree’s fingers did the real work, though, the rough calluses rubbing and teasing the delicate purple flesh inside him, his muscles relaxing with each shallow thrust and rub against his retracted shaft.

The second finger earned a surprised cry, ascending into a loud trill as he bucked his hips against McCree’s hand. It was certainly more than he was used to, warm and thick and rough against him, _spreading_ him— “J-Jesse,” he panted, his long neck arching.

“Too much?”

“No— _perfect_ ,” Hanzo moaned and trilled, his clawed feet finding the edge of McCree’s mattress and digging in. The pressure was dizzying, and brought to mind some of the toys available on his homeworld, the ones meant to overstimulate, to encourage ovulation; the ones that middles like himself all pleasured themselves with and then when they were discovered in a box by their shocked partners, reassured them that they were merely gag gifts from a particularly mischievous sibling, definitely not a ‘threat’, _certainly_ never used, good heavens no… It was one lie that nearly every middle had actually managed to pass off.

“You let me know if it’s too much, okay?”

“Jesse,” Hanzo sighed, a chirp filling the space before his next sentence, “I assure you, if it is too much, I _will_ let you know. Now,” he said, his hand wrapping around McCree’s forearm, “ _Continue.”_

“Yessir,” McCree winked, thrusting his fingers with more intent, hoping to earn another of those trills that Hanzo seemed so embarrassed about before. His efforts were quickly rewarded. Hanzo’s moans mixed with his chirps and cries, and his hips rocked and bucked along with McCree’s roaming fingers. Hanzo was so _soft_ inside, silky and wet, and as his fingers plunged deeper, Hanzo’s mating cries only grew in frequency. The slick, firm shaft was tantalizing, too—every teasing stroke and prod at his retracted cock earned a clench, and with each clench, McCree felt Hanzo’s member twitch in return.

“God, can’t wait to feel _this_ inside me,” McCree purred, stroking his fingers along either side of Hanzo’s shaft.

“Aah, Jesse, please—breed me,” Hanzo begged, chirps pouring out of his throat as he rubbed at either side of his belly. He knew he wasn’t ready to breed at this point in his cycle, but the thick fingers pressing at his walls were sending all sorts of wonderful contractions through his core, slicking him, readying him…

McCree pulled his fingers back and inspected the pearlescent fluids clinging to his fingertips. The urge to taste him was almost overpowering.

‘You _cannot_ go licking mysterious fluids!’ a voice very much like Angela’s hissed in the back of his mind, tempering the urge…for now. He returned to the lube from before, squeezing a dollop on his member and stroking himself slick, trying to ignore the sudden hint of nerves. Hanzo had never slept with a human before him—and he knew Dravarans were a meritocratic society. The pressure to be a good representation of the human race’s ability in bed was creeping up on him. Something pleasantly smooth and scaly brushed against his leg, quickly redirecting Jesse’s attention. His long, narrow tail, covered with cool blue scales and with a trail of feathery hair running down its back wrapped loosely around Jesse’s calf, the tip flicking playfully against his skin.

“If only humans had tails to hold as well,” Hanzo sighed, a coy smile on his lips.

“Hopefully I can make up for that,” McCree laughed, pressing into Hanzo’s slightly puffy cloaca with a soft groan. His interior still felt velvety and warm, but the feeling of his retracted member firm against McCree’s cock added a thrill to his slow, gentle thrust.

At first, Hanzo merely arched into him as the first inch pressed inside, a pleased warble in his throat. But as McCree pressed farther inside, felt alien structures and folds and turns, Hanzo’s volume increased. His back arched and his head fell back as if to open his throat for the shrill, but oddly warm cry that he let out. He drew a gasping breath before slapping a hand over his mouth, as if he could draw back his eagle-like cry from before. McCree could feel Hanzo’s body growing tense and firm around him, the strange alien anatomy from before rippling and moving—something _feathery_ was stroking him inside—

“Ohh Jesus Christ,” McCree gasped, shuddering as he bottomed out.

“J-Jesse,” Hanzo chirped softly, arching firmly against the other man and letting out a ragged groan. “F-full,” he gasped, his palms running along his own belly indulgently.

“Is that good, baby?” McCree murmured, shyly stroking Hanzo’s scaly sides.

“Yes—oh, yes!” Hanzo sighed, his feet digging into the mattress again as he secured himself more fully. “Wonderful,” he murmured, chirping softly—encouragingly.

“You want me to move, honey?” McCree asked, shuddering at the strange sensations inside Hanzo’s body. It felt like some sort of suckers were mouthing at his dick and while it felt _heavenly_ , he wasn’t sure if that was something that was safe.

“Stay—for a moment,” Hanzo whined, his hands rising to slide over McCree’s shoulders. “Let me…” he murmured, holding on and taking a quick breath. Hanzo carefully began tensing, flexing muscles deep within his core.

It was McCree’s turn to let out a cry. Hanzo’s member slid out an inch or so as he worked his core, the friction running along the top of Jesse’s cock. But more than that were all of the other sensations he was feeling inside Hanzo’s body. The suckers mouthed up toward his tip, the feathery stroking doubled, _tripled_ , something inside Hanzo opened up farther, drawing him impossibly deeper.

“F-fuck—!” McCree gasped, his hips jerking forward in response and forcing a pleased noise from Hanzo.

“Ohh Jesse,” he sighed, chirps and warbles leaving him between English words, “Ssssso full,” he groaned, squeezing and clenching around Jesse, seeking whatever strange pleasures he could find in this thick human member. It reminded him of his favorite toy back home—settled deep inside him, warm but stationary, pushing outward on him just as much as his clenching muscles pressed inward.

“Nngh, I—I gotta, I gotta move, Hanzo,” McCree panted, his hips jerking unsteadily against Hanzo for a moment as he tried to negotiate the space. He didn’t know if there was something delicate in there, after all, but _god_ Hanzo was glorious and tight, his smooth wet cock slipping between them on occasion as Hanzo squirmed and chirped in pleasure.

“Oh my goodness—yes, Jesse, _please_ , breed me!” Hanzo gasped, his cheeks flushed cornflower blue.

“Ah, fuck, sugar, I will,” Jesse moaned, his hips starting to find a rhythm. It was quick and sharp, but it was a rhythm nonetheless. The little suckers inside weren’t strong enough to hold him, but they mouthed and kissed at his cock with every thrust. “God _damn_ , what are those?”

“What?” Hanzo panted, his lashes fluttering as he tried to bring himself back to the moment.

“Those little…these,” he groaned, slowing and letting them latch weakly onto his skin again, sighing at the feeling. Hanzo’s brow wrinkled as he tried to figure out what Jesse was asking about.

“These?” he asked, tightening one group of muscles.

“Naw, but that felt great anyway,” McCree laughed. “No, the little…suckers. Feels like this,” he added, leaning down and sucking lightly on the flesh of Hanzo’s neck.

“Ohhh, Jesse,” Hanzo moaned, a warm purr rumbling through his throat even while he spoke. “I am…not sure,” he said, his brain foggy with the sensations Jesse’s body was offering him; the names of anatomical structures weren’t coming to mind so much as the feeling of them being battered and rubbed by Jesse’s member, each roll of the hips leaving him breathless.

“Guess we can figure it out later,” Jesse chuckled, groaning as he felt Hanzo’s member sliding against his again, the odd tip of it fluttering against the soft skin of his belly—another little mouth laying butterfly kisses against his flesh. Jesse adjusted his angle slightly and rolled his hips against Hanzo’s pale cock, gasping at the splurt of cum it quickly shot onto his belly.

“That was quick,” he smirked.

“What was quick?” Hanzo asked, his cock still nudging Jesse’s belly.

“Didn’t you just come?” Jesse asked, faltering slightly.

“That,” Hanzo smirked, his tip messily rubbing through the slick it had made, “Is lubricant.”

“Oh. _Oh_ ,” Jesse toned, looking down at the darkening flesh, the shaft growing more rigid along his own length. It didn’t seem to swell up much, to his…disappointment wasn’t the right word. A self-lubing cock could be plenty of fun no matter how thick it was.

“ _Breed me_ ,” Hanzo moaned again, chirping in pleasure as his member began to extend and retract along the crease of Jesse’s hip, gently fucking the furrow in return.

“Yessir,” Jesse winked, his arms sliding around Hanzo’s shoulders as he settled into position, finding an angle that would let him thrust back into that delightful heat that had opened up for him deep inside.

Hanzo trilled loudly as Jesse began to snap his hips against his own, the push of his partner’s member against his empty egg channel deliciously taboo. A beginning mate shouldn’t be able to reach so deep… _or thrust like that_ , he thought between rolls of the hip, his tongue lolling uselessly in his mouth as he gave into the force of being so hungrily mated.

_He fucks like a middle…!_

Jesse rutted hard against Hanzo as he finally came, pounding away through his orgasm as Hanzo cried out with both larynxes. The mattress tore beneath his claws as he held on with his feet, clutching the bedding for dear life. Hanzo shuddered as he felt a little dribble of seed get pulled into his egg channel, chuffing and whining and longing for more.

“Ohh fuck, Hanzo,” Jesse panted, grinding his hips lazily against Hanzo’s cloaca and his deep blue cock, “That was…hoo,” he breathed, chuckling softly as he felt Hanzo’s cock feel out the space between them, mouthing and splurting needily.

“Lovely,” Hanzo sighed, lifting his hips and chuckling as he watched Jesse’s bare buttocks rise in the air along with the motion.

“You gonna return the favor?” Jesse asked, winking down at Hanzo.

“You wish to be bred?” Hanzo asked, smirking.

“Damn right,” Jesse replied. “Jes’ gimme a minute to catch my breath.”


	4. Chapter 4

Jesse rolled off of Hanzo and sighed up at the ceiling, a pleased grin on his face. “Damn, honey, that was somethin’ else,” he said, looking over at the commander.

“It was…quite thrilling,” Hanzo admitted, a crooning cry following his words. “I apologize for any damage I have done to your bed.”

“Honey, breaking my bed is an achievement,” Jesse laughed.

“Are you alright?” Hanzo asked, gently nudging the captain’s softening cock. “You are…shrinking.”

“Yeah, yeah, just give me a minute,” Jesse said, stretching and sighing. “Only porn stars can keep it up constantly.”

“So…humans need protection after mating,” Hanzo mused, stroking his knuckles across Jesse’s chest and indulging his desire to _pet_.

“Heh…I guess you could put it that way. Not really, though, usually both folks are plum wore out after a good romp. Maybe way back in our evolutionary history…”

“Hm,” Hanzo toned. “After being fertilized, a Dravaran must hunt.”

“H-hunt?” Jesse asked, blinking.

“Yes—we require protein to produce eggshells. And an offering to the ending mate never goes amiss,” Hanzo explained, nuzzling Jesse’s neck and indulging in the salty sheen on his skin.

“Yer tongue tickles,” Jesse chuckled, squirming. “So, uh…about that hunting. You’re not feelin’…hungry, are you?”

“Mmm, a bit,” Hanzo smiled, rising from the bed and padding over to the replicator. “Are you, Jesse?”

“Sure…what sounds good?” he asked, rolling onto his side and propping himself up.

“What always sounds good to a Dravaran,” Hanzo called back, returning with a well-stocked charcuterie board. “I love your prosciutto. It reminds me of a dish from home,” he explained, placing the wooden board down on the bed and laying down as well.

“Mmm, good hunter,” Jesse grinned, popping a slice of dry-cured sausage in his mouth.

“I am a great hunter,” Hanzo agreed, a low hum of laughter under his words.

“So Dravarans have mid-sex meals, huh?” Jesse asked between thin cuts of meat.

“It is traditional. It may be a day or two until mating is completed for a middle, so we must eat,” Hanzo said.

“Why the delay?”

“The third mate must be available,” he said, smiling. “It is _terribly_ embarrassing for a middle to lay eggs without a mate to accept them, so we wait.”

“I’d hate to embarrass you, darlin’,” McCree smirked. “You got those eggs ready?”

Hanzo let out a chirping laugh. “My body will not be producing eggs for another few weeks. But we can still mate,” he added, nuzzling Jesse’s temple and warbling softly.

McCree’s head was spinning as he tried to process the unexpected exobiology lesson. He knew about Dravarans, of course; the computer had a primer on their species (although it was written by Federation xenoanthropologists and contained several frustrated entries on cultural details), and included mention of their reproductive cycle, but he’d never thought he would need such…intimate knowledge. Not until he met a Dravaran in the flesh and knew how badly he wanted to climb him like a tree.

And nothing prepared him for those chirps and warbles. It was like being in an aviary full of particularly excited songbirds—terribly cute, especially coming from such a prim and proper giant of a crewman.

Now here he was being fed by him, feeling those smooth scales rub up against him, seeing his glistening indigo cock rise proudly out of the hole he’d just thoroughly fucked…

“Are you ready to have the favor returned?” Hanzo asked, running his fingers through Jesse’s hair carefully, mindful of his claws.

“I…yeah, pumpkin,” Jesse chuckled, picking up the board and rolling over to move it to the bedside table.

He shivered with need as he felt a large, silky smooth form slide into place behind him, one long blue leg sliding into view and caging him. He could see long black talons dig into the mattress, and he couldn’t get the thought of a hawk’s claws out of his mind. He was _prey_ …and he had to admit, it felt kind of thrilling to be prey in this instance.

Hanzo’s lips pressed against the back of his neck and a low purr rumbled through the Dravaran’s chest, vibrating against Jesse’s back and rattling his bones. He felt small, vulnerable, undeniably soft and squishy—humans were very much prey animals, he realized.

“Computer, raise ambient temperature by 2 degrees Celsius,” Hanzo ordered softly, nuzzling the captian’s cheek. “You are shivering,” he remarked, “I want to keep you warm.”

“Mighty thoughtful of ya, Hanzo,” Jesse replied, accepting his affectionate touches and the odd texture of Hanzo’s skin against his back. The pebbly, smooth scales rubbed lightly against him, another reminder that the man behind him, over him, _surrounding him_ wasn’t human.

Something slick and smooth—Hanzo’s cock, he realized with a thrill—nudged and mouthed against his balls and McCree let out a hitched moan, his head hanging as he tried to surrender to the pleasure Hanzo was offering him. The claws were still a bit of a concern, but he trusted his officers with his life. Trusting them with his ass wasn’t any different.

“Are you comfortable, Jesse?” Hanzo asked, one of those lovely little warbles punctuating his question.

“Yeah,” he replied, lowering himself down onto his elbows and resting his head on his prosthetic forearm. He reached back with his free hand to lightly tease his hole, groaning softly as he felt a splurt of warm slick hit him—thicker than the lube he had pulled from the replicator. “Good aim, hon,” he chuckled, swirling his finger for a moment before gently prodding himself open.

“How much lubrication do you require?” Hanzo asked, “I…understand that pornography is often more fantasy than reality.”

“Having seen you, babe…a little more wouldn’t hurt,” McCree smiled into his arm, blindly working Hanzo’s cum into himself as best he could. He felt Hanzo shifting around him, heard another little chirp, and felt another glob of cum drip into the cleft of his ass, sliding down toward his hole. _Real_ good aim… McCree worked more diligently, easing in his second thick finger with a groan and a sigh and imagining what Hanzo’s slender forked tongue would feel like doing the same job. Soft, feather-light kisses trailed down his spine as he worked, and Hanzo’s long tail curled around Jesse’s leg again, the feathery hair at the end tickling him pleasantly.

He didn’t _seem_ like a predatory species in moments like this, he thought dreamily, stretching and scissoring. Hanzo seemed downright gentle.

‘It’s those claws,’ he realized, huffing slightly as he teased his prostate, ‘Don’t wanna hurt me…’

“‘M ready,” McCree murmured, stretching his fingers and offering the small gape to his new lover, anticipation sending a shudder through him. He was really, _really_ going to be fucked by a giant dragon alien. Did all humans feel this much excited nervous energy their first time with an alien? Would it have been less intimidating to start with a Vulcan or an Andorian? ‘Would they have been as gorgeous?’

Hanzo carefully removed McCree’s fingers and guiding his hand back to the bed, slowly shifting his bulk into place as he positioned McCree to take his ovipositor. He knew humans were…accommodating, based on his ‘research’ at the Academy, but he couldn’t be sure if Jesse would be so flexible. Hanzo let out low, soft purrs and comforting warbles as he mounted McCree, wary of putting too much of his weight on the human below him. He slid his arms beneath Jesse’s chest and grasped the mattress with his feet, the tip of his tail flicking lightly as he felt out McCree’s entrance with his tip, pressing his hips forward.

It was a tighter slide than he anticipated, but his shaft held strong against the pressure of Jesse’s body. Hanzo trilled in pleasure, his ears perking at McCree’s groan.

“Are you alright?” Hanzo asked, a purr rumbling in his chest.

“Fuuuck, yeah, I’m good,” McCree moaned, arching his back and presenting his ass at a better angle. “Nice an’ smooth…”

“You feel wonderful, Jesse,” Hanzo murmured, uncertain about human mating calls. Jesse had been vocal, speaking and toning throughout—and much of his ‘research’ had supported this approach as well—but what to say?

“Mmmmnh, you too, baby,” McCree sighed, pressing back against Hanzo and happily taking more and more of his member. “Don’t hold back with me, darlin’, I’ll let you know if it’s too much.”

“As you wish,” Hanzo chuckled, rocking his hips and sighing as he felt more of his fluids gush on his withdrawal.

“Ooh…fuck, baby, you’re gonna get me all sloppy,” McCree mused, trying to suppress his shudders of nerves and anticipation. Hanzo was being _very_ gentle, almost _too_ gentle so far. Not that the feeling of being surrounded, caged in by his lover’s strong limbs wasn’t stimulating in and of itself, and not that he didn’t feel great, but there was a creeping bit of curious concern; what was he holding back?

‘Maybe he’s just a gentle lover?’

‘Maybe he doesn’t want to destroy my ass when we’re three days out from the nearest Starbase?’

Hanzo chirped as he pressed back inside, rocking his hips and enjoying the squeeze and drag of Jesse’s hungry body against him. He poked and prodded subtly with each press in, feeling the curves and angles of him from the inside. Curious, he angled his hips a little more sharply and reached deep, trying to feel how much room for eggs he might have inside his mate.

Jesse gasped as he felt Hanzo bottom out, and lost his voice completely as he felt Hanzo _keep moving deeper_ as his hips stilled. Morbidly curious, he looked down the length of his body and saw a _bulge_ moving deep inside his guts, pressing out from his belly—

Oh, _that’s_ what he was holding back.

“H-Hanzo—!” he squeaked, reaching back with a trembling hand to brush the shifting bulge in his gut. His cock throbbed as he felt Hanzo move inside, the kissing mouth of his dick feeling depths that had never been touched.

‘Vulcan sure as hell couldn’t do _that_ ,’ he thought, his head spinning.

“Are you alright?” Hanzo purred in his ear, his back arched high over Jesse’s and a low, almost wild growl rumbling under his words.

“Fuck, f-fucking hell, Han,” Jesse panted, fighting the urge to squirm. The roaming cock inside him was curious, feeling out nooks and crannies he didn’t even know he had, but was slim and nimble, brushing and prodding gently. He’d taken big before, and he’d taken deep, but this…this was something else entirely and his body didn’t know how to process it. Aside from getting so hard again it hurt, of course.

“Let me know if I need to stop,” Hanzo counseled softly, holding onto Jesse and beginning to roll his hips. He could feel his _tamazao_ rippling as he began rocking and lightly thrusting, pushing out more and more slick and easing his motions. “So warm…so soft,” he praised between chirps and tweets and trills, slowly giving in to the demands of his body.

Jesse had fucked him thoroughly, it was only right to return the favor.

Hanzo retracted his _tamazao_ , warbling softly as he left Jesse entirely before letting it partially extend again, slipping into Jesse’s warm, sticky entrance. He knew now how deep he could go before hitting the twists and turns and soft resistance of his organs—his natural extension should be safe for a human.

His talons dug into the covers of McCree’s bed as he began thrusting harder, purring at the wet sound of his hips meeting McCree’s ass. The sound was delightful and warm, and the high arch of his back felt delightfully taboo somehow. He allowed his tongue to trace the shell of McCree’s ear, purring and warbling as he rutted against the human’s firm ass.

McCree groaned as Hanzo began to pick up speed, sighing and moaning as the situation began to drift back into familiar territory for him. “Fuck baby, that feels so good,” he whined, arching and squirming in an attempt to get Hanzo’s cock where he wanted it. “You’re so close…”

“Hold still,” Hanzo said, his chuckle turning into another low little call as he rocked his hips, trying to meet Jesse’s wordless demands.

“I can’t,” Mccree grinned, “Feels great, baby,” he sighed, reaching back to casually stroke himself—he didn’t want Hanzo’s claws there in the heat of the moment. “Gimme more.”

“More what?” Hanzo laughed. “I do not have eggs to give you right now. Do you want to be filled anyway, love?”

“Mmm, sure,” McCree toned, “Whatever you got, knock me up, hon.”

Hanzo wasn’t sure he understood the colloquialism, but he could understand Jesse’s request—doubly so with how the human arched his back, angling his hips, lowering his chest to the bed and reaching back to spread himself wide. It was a lewd display, to be sure, but Hanzo enjoyed the view. Hanzo leaned down to kiss and lick at the back of McCree’s neck again, crooning into his hairline as he gave him a few shallow thrusts before rocking in deep, chuffing and rumbling in pleasure as he worked himself up again. He could feel his _tamazao_ squeezing at eggs that weren’t there and let out a keening cry as another wave of slick shot out of him, splattering deep inside Jesse’s belly. The moans that left the human were absolutely intoxicating.

Hanzo’s hands slid over Jesse’s chest, grasping his shoulders as gently as he could as he increased his pace, chirping and crying out softly as he felt his fluids begin to flow. Each quick smack of his hips against Jesse’s ass forced a little more slick from him, along with another chirp or crow as he chased his end. His body _knew_ it didn’t have eggs, but damnit he wanted to put as much of himself inside the captain as he could, to stake some claim on this mate, to give him what he wanted.

“Ha-H-Han—!” Jesse gasped, his body tensing and tightening around Hanzo’s member as he crossed his line once again, shuddering as his seed splattered on the sheets below him. He could feel himself getting delightfully full as Hanzo pounded his ass, moaning lewdly as his lover slowed.

“Is that enough, Jesse?” Hanzo cooed, pressing his cloaca flush against Jesse and reaching deeper with his _tamazao_ , fruitlessly pushing his fluids around inside his mate, making room for eggs that would not come.

“O-oh fuck, honey, yer doin’ that thing again--!” Jesse gasped, pressing his trembling fingers against his belly experimentally and moaning softly as he felt that cock move inside.

“Is it too much?” Hanzo murmured, stroking Jesse’s chest.

“No, n-no, it’s incredible,” McCree gasped, shuddering again as Hanzo’s indigo cock rubbed idly against his prostate as it explored his insides. “Did...did you finish, baby?”

“Did I what?”

“Didja come?”

“Come where?”

McCree sighed, his head dropping against his arms again. “Did you have an orgasm?”

“Oh. No, that is not part of the sexual experience for a middle.”

“Wha--you’re telling me you don’t have orgasms on your planet?”

“Beginnings do,” Hanzo explained, nuzzling the back of Jesse’s neck again, “And there is great relief when a middle has passed all their eggs, but…” he chuckled, rocking his hips against Jesse’s ass a few times, “Mating for Dravarans is very different than for humans. Our peak is not so...dramatic. Suffice it to say, I am pleased.”

“Well,” McCree moaned, sighing at the motions, “I’m pleased that you’re pleased,” he chuckled.

“It also means,” Hanzo added, sliding his smooth scales along Jesse’s back and flicking his tail playfully, “That I do not need to be protected after a climax, unlike some species. I can continue for _hours_ ,” he smirked.

“Goddamn,” Jesse whispered, “I’m the luckiest man alive…”

“We shall see,” Hanzo purred, carefully withdrawing from McCree’s body and pulling his ovipositor back inside himself, “I, too, am feeling quite lucky.”


End file.
